


Release

by romanticalgirl



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant me love and peace, Or, if not them, grant me at least release</p><p>Originally posted 3-19-06</p>
            </blockquote>





	Release

The air through the barred window is heavy and thick, redolent with the scent of the sea and the flowers that cling to the surrounding countryside. The night is dark as pitch, but the low candle still burns, flickering in the barest hint of breeze.

Archie breathes evenly, deeply, lulling himself to sleep. Horatio lies across from him, restless even in his silence, turning from one side to the other as if pacing in his attempts to sleep. Archie exhales, closing his eyes so that the long line of Horatio’s back is nothing more than a golden shadow in the candle’s flame.

He can feel the pull of sleep, dragging him under with insistent hands when he hears Horatio’s quiet sigh. He opens his eyes slowly against the weight of promised dreams and catches his breath, forcing it from his tight chest as Horatio’s long fingers shove away the blanket that covers him.

Horatio turns his head slightly, his eyes raking over Archie before looking away, almost guiltily. Archie sighs, curling against the edge of the cot, knowing – for whatever reason – that Horatio must not know that he is awake, that he is watching.

Horatio sighs again and runs an unsteady hand through his hair, his eyes turning to Archie again. His tongue slides out across his lower lip and then disappears into his mouth again, the candle glinting off the moisture left behind. “Archie?”

Archie sighs softly, as if in sleep. Horatio’s brow furrows slightly and he turns onto his side, facing Archie with his dark, questioning eyes. Archie lies still, his breathing measured and deep, watching Horatio from beneath lowered lashes, his pulse beating a staccato tattoo in his chest.

“Archie?”

Horatio sighs again and lays back, his gaze on the underside of the cot above him. There is a weighted silence and then Horatio shifts again, half facing Archie as he bends his knee, his left hand sliding down over his waist to push his night shirt out of the way.

Heat pools inside Archie’s stomach as Horatio’s lower abdomen is exposed, the dark hairs that trail across his skin disappearing into the thin, well-worn smallclothes. Horatio’s hand pauses, his breath suddenly rough as his palm curves over the fabric and presses through it to the flesh beneath.

Horatio’s mouth opens slightly at the touch, the cloth rasping beneath his hand. He bites his lower lip to hold back any noise and his eyes close. Archie swallows, barely daring to breathe, as Horatio inhales sharply several times, his long fingers teasing around the sharp outline of his arousal.

The heel of Horatio’s hand lifts so that just his fingers move against his shaft, feathering lightly over it from base to tip. There’s something languid in the movement, the curve of his wrist, and Archie inhales, realizing that Horatio intends to enjoy this, prolong it. He believes Archie asleep and, as such, intends to revel in the freedom of his own touch.

Swallowing hard, Archie shifts on the bed, angling his hips toward the thin mattress, finding pressure to meet the swelling of his flesh. The sound stills Horatio’s hand and he looks quickly over, sighing in silent relief as his eyes find no false movement in Archie’s relaxed sprawl.

His eyes still on Archie, Horatio’s long fingers unfasten the ribbon that holds his short drawers against his skin, tugging the material away. His hand slips beneath the cloth and he closes his eyes, his lips parting as he touches himself. Archie swallows again, his eyes opening fully as Horatio turns his head away, arching his hips away from his bed to push the cotton drawers down and expose his flushed skin to the heavy night air.

Archie inhales and exhales; forcing himself to keep his breath measured and slow as Horatio bares himself. Strong, tautly muscled thighs stand out in sharp outline against the darkness. The hard curve of Horatio’s cock bright against the tanned darkness of his hands, his long fingers trailing along the length of it.

Horatio’s hand finally settles, curving around the base of his cock, his palm hard against the push of his sac. His breath catches and he exhales shakily as he wraps his free hand just above the other and slowly draws it upward to the tip.

Biting his lower lip, Archie’s hand curls around the edge of the cot, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. He swallows hard against the rush of need boiling in his stomach, the pure ache of want that threads through him as he watches Horatio repeat the gesture, slowly every time, prolonging every stroke with precise movements of wrist and hand and fingers.

Moaning breathily, the sound barely loud enough to reach Archie’s ears, Horatio rolls his hips, his body moving in time with his hand as he increases the steady pace of his hands, thrusting up to meet each downward stroke. His teeth close around his lower lip then he licks it, inhaling roughly. Archie bites his own lip, his eyes sliding down the tensed muscles of Horatio’s body to the slick head of his cock.

Archie thrusts slowly against his mattress, his muscles coiled in restraint as he forces his arousal against the rough padding. His mouth opens of its own accord, his tongue imitating Horatio’s as he licks his lips. Hunger and need and want and desperation boil in his stomach and lower, his hips rocking in slow counterpoint to Horatio’s quickening movements.

Rough breaths escape Horatio’s mouth, pants mixed with soft groans he can’t seem to control as his hand tightens, the foreskin pulled back from the slick tip as the circle of his long fingers coaxes the flushed skin, pulling at it in hard strokes.

Archie tenses, his muscles tight and pained as he struggles to remain still, his eyes sweeping over Horatio’s body again and again from his open mouth and halting breathes to the tight curve of his bicep to the hard jut of his cock as his hand moves like quicksilver. Horatio’s thighs grow taut, his heels digging into the mattress as his chest shudders.

“Oh, Archie.” Horatio turns his head and stills, frozen as his eyes meet the astonished blue of Archie’s in the moment sensation over comes him and he gasps, his body spending itself in a upward thrust and the warm scent of sex, his eyes closing as he comes.

Archie feels the hard jerk of his own body, the heated moisture of his own orgasm. He bites the inside of his lip to keep from making a sound as Horatio struggles to find his breath across the room. Archie’s head pounds, his blood pulsing hotly, insistently through his veins as he holds his eyes closed, burying his desperate breath in the pillow beneath him.

The room comes alive with the sound of crickets and the smell of pomegranate as Archie forces himself to breathe, reminding himself of the routine and struggling to block the dark burn of Horatio’s gaze from his mind, the rough hunger that flared in the depths.

“Archie?”

The softly whispered word hangs in the room, the insects outside suddenly falling silent again. Archie exhales slowly, evenly, his breath steady. He can feel Horatio’s eyes on him, searching, raking over his body.

“Archie?”

He turns his head away, the art of feigning sleep learned early and learned well in prison and on _Justinian_. He hears Horatio’s sigh – part confusion, part relief – and senses him settling back on his bed, the slick problem of his release best washed away in the morning with everything else. Archie turns his head again and opens his eyes enough to see Horatio, curled in on himself now, no longer relaxed and wanton.

Archie watches as Horatio’s chest slowly slides into the rhythm of sleep, his dark lashes still against his cheeks. He turns onto his back, the cool air hitting his own damp skin. He barely feels it as he turns his head and watches Horatio sleep until his friend’s steady breathing drags him under as well.


End file.
